Notes About The Poem
Image source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:PlantsInBalconies_SkopelosGreece.jpg
To Elli
The heat has stung the lizards numb, Elli,
the white church scours itself with glare.
Ecstatic mules devour the afternoon
by the rusty fence where poppies smudge the sun like blossoming wounds,
and your arms gleam bright as dew on a dragonfly’s wing, Elli.
A god dreams on in the olive tree’s angry womb,
the balcony’s shadow slices the street,
and your body is sweet as a knife, Elli,
your flesh is a casket of flowers.
In the valley between your breasts I hear your heart pump molten stone.
Enfold my breath in a rose of musk, Elli:
in your black eyes I see my death, Elli.
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Please note that I never have used and never will use AI to compose or revise any of my writings.
A random comment on poetry in general: I'm not interested in poems that try to make me understand the person who wrote them; I want poems that make me understand myself.
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